


the Mark

by mothermalfoy (MsLyraMalfoy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU Sixth Year, AU fifth year, Angst, Dark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Harry, possessive Harry but in the best possible way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLyraMalfoy/pseuds/mothermalfoy
Summary: In a world where Draco attempted to warn Harry about the ambush at the Hall of Prophecy and the two become friends, Harry fears for what will become of Draco after he takes the Mark, but Draco fears what will become of both of them, and his family, if he doesn't.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

"Whatever you do, promise me you won't take the mark," Harry whispered against Draco's ear as they prepared to part ways for the Summer holidays. Draco merely offered Harry a weak smile in response. He could promise nothing, they both knew that, but all the same, Harry _needed _to hear it. Needed to hear Draco say that he would do everything in his power not to take the Dark Mark. "You will never be his Draco," he promised. "No matter what happens. Draco nodded, tears falling down his face as he pressed it into Harry's shoulder. Neither one wanting to leave the safety of the train.

His father was in Azkaban, which meant that he was safe, for now, but it would only be a matter of time before the Dark Lord called upon Draco for something horrendous. Draco had tried to warn Harry, warn him that going to the Hall of Prophecy was a trap. That the Death Eaters were planning to ambush them, but that had been before, before they were friends, before they were… _more than friends. _Draco couldn't bear to put too much of a label on it. Lest the Dark Lord discover his treachery and demand him to kill Harry Potter himself. Not that he could even if he wanted to. Draco understood something that almost no one else seemed to, not even Harry himself. Harry could only be killed by Voldemort, and Voldemort could only be killed by Harry.

Not because of the prophecy, or ancient dark magic, but simply because Harry possessed such a great capacity for love. A capacity, unlike anything Draco had ever seen before. Harry was full of love. Full of joy and happiness, despite everything that had happened to him. He was not just the boy who lived, he was the boy who loved with an intensity that Draco had never thought possible. It was this very love that had eventually drawn Draco to him, and it was this love that terrified Draco to his core. It was a love that was just powerful enough to stop the Dark Lord once and for all, though no one could quite understand how. Or even why. More to the point Draco knew it was being directed at him. He could feel it. Try though he might to deny it, Harry was rather obvious with his affections. Always pulling Draco in for a hug, holding him just a touch longer than would otherwise be acceptable even amongst friends. Burying his head in Draco's shoulder, falling asleep on his shoulder. Sniffing his hair when he thought Draco wouldn't notice. Petting his hair when he thought Draco was asleep.

Harry was terribly affectionate. And though Draco loved it, it remained a danger to himself. For if he allowed himself to admit the truth. How deeply and passionately he loved Harry in return. How he had _always _loved Harry, he knew that one or both of them would be killed. Or worse, that his mother would be killed. And that was a risk he simply couldn't take.

Draco could feel Hermione's eyes on his back, he could feel the way she was looking at him, almost pitying. The way Pansy had looked at him earlier. It was a look that said, "_You poor lovesick fool."_

Draco _detested _that look. More so because he _knew _they were right. He was a fool. He had let things get too far and it felt almost inevitable that the fallout would be legendarily dreadful. Even for Death Eaters. Still, Draco held his head high, pulling himself away from Harry's intoxicating embrace, and put on a brave face, slipping from Harry's train car, making sure to exit the train fair enough away that should any prying eyes wish to determine the distance between where Draco had exited and where Harry would exit in a few minutes time, they would not come to the conclusion that they had been near one another at all.

Out on the platform, Draco nearly froze at the sight before him. His mother was standing there, on the platform, looking regal as ever, while his aunt, Bellatrix, barely disguised by a glamour stood beside her, looking dangerous. He swallowed, stepping carefully off the train and made his way towards the two women, making sure he looked as perfect as he ever had.

"Welcome home darling," his mother said.

"Yes," said Bellatrix. "Welcome home Draco. The Dark Lord has many plans for you," she said in a whisper of barely contained glee. Draco didn't like the sound of that, but he knew there was no turning back now.

Harry had tried to offer him a place to stay, "I have a sort of safe house," he'd said. "It's unplottable, they'd never find you."

"I would only be putting you into more danger than I already have," Draco had protested.

"Dumbledore. Surely Dumbledore will know what to do," Harry had tried.

Draco had merely stared at Harry then. It was the night before they were meant to get on the train to return home for the summer, and Draco wanted to spend it not thinking about what would await him when he returned to the Manor.

Dumbledore couldn't help him, or perhaps, wouldn't help him. It hardly made a difference in Draco's mind. Shaking his head, Draco placed his hand gently to Harry's cheek, and Harry was silent. He was always silent in the rare moments that Draco returned any sort of physical affection. Harry touched his hand against Draco's on his cheek, letting his eyes drift closed. Draco sighed, these were the quiet memories he would keep with him until the moment the Dark Lord saw fit to end him. Though he would never admit it to Harry, it was not a matter of if, it was a matter of when. Refusing the Dark Mark for any reason would be grounds for instant extermination. No questions asked, no second chances, no begging or pleading or reasoning. Once the request was made for Draco to take the mark to prove his loyalty, there would be no refusing it. Not if he was to be of any use to Harry in the end.

The Manor was cold upon Draco's arrival. Not cold in the sense that it had always been, draughty, but a sinister sort of cold. The sort of cold that spoke of death, and destruction. A bone-chilling coldness that went far beyond any physical temperature. _The Dark Lord is here, _Draco thought.

It was not a question. He could _feel _the Dark Lord's presence, it was as if all life had been sucked out of the room, and here he was, stuck in an endless vacuum of emptiness. He would have thrown up had he eaten anything in the last two days. Harry had taken notice of this of course, "You have to eat something," he had chided, as though he himself weren’t skin and bones. As if he were the epitome of healthy eating habits. Harry had tried feeding him, and as charming as Draco found it, and as much as he _desperately _wanted to let him, the thought of actually eating anything made him feel rather nauseous. So instead he watched Harry and his friends eat, and for a brief moment in time he allowed himself to imagine what it might have been like had things been different. Had he not been such an arse in the beginning.

Sucking in a deep breath, Draco continued walking, deeper into the Manor, towards the source of the endless cold. He was certain he could almost see his breath in front of him as he approached the drawing room where one of his father's wingbacked chairs sat in front of the fireplace, a large snake coiled around the chair.

"Draco," the Dark Lord rasped. It was the sort of voice Draco could hear in his nightmares. He had never met the Dark Lord, formally at least, but he had heard whispers of him all his life. Praise from his father, quiet disdain from his mother. Then there was talk of the utter adulation of his aunt Bellatrix. She had been imprisoned since before he was born, but what he had heard of her had never boded well.

"Yes my Lord," Draco said quietly.

"Come, kneel beside me," the Dark Lord said. Draco swallowed and took several steps towards the chair. His heart beating loudly in his ears, it was fortunate that his godfather had taught him Occlumency, to cloud his thoughts against the invasion by the Dark Lord. He could feel his dark magic prying. Slithering into his brain like a grimy snake, hoping to sniff out any semblance of betrayal. Draco shuddered at the probing of his mind. He had locked all thoughts of Harry away in a tight, small box, in the deepest recesses of his mind. Like a buried treasure only _he _would ever know how to find. The thoughts that Draco immediately kept at the forefront of his mind were that of learning that his father had been taken to Azkaban. "You worry about your father," the Dark Lord said as Draco approached the chair. "I will not pretend that his loss was not a great blow to our cause."

Draco nodded, never daring to speak unless directly commanded to do so. As he reached the chair, Draco kneeled before the Dark Lord. He did not want to look at him, he did not want to see the man's face, nor his eyes. 'A haunting, soul-sucking red,' Severus had once described them.

"But that is where you come in, Draco," said the Dark Lord. Draco swallowed, as a cold pale hand outstretched towards him. Draco took it, kissing the back of it with a perverse sort of reverence that he knew was expected of all Death Eaters. "In your father's absence, you shall rise as the Head of Malfoy. And become a Death Eater. Should you prove yourself worthy to the cause, I will consider making you my second in command."

"But…" he heard his aunt Bellatrix begin. But the Dark Lord held up a single hand to silence her. Draco stared over at his aunt, trying not to look somewhat smug at the thought that he could be second in command over her. "Do you accept, Draco?" he asked.

Steeling his nerves, Draco looked up at the Dark Lord then, and into the blood-red eyes, that were even more haunting than anything Severus could have prepared him for. "What shall I do, my Lord?" he asked.

The Dark Lord smiled at this. "Only one task can truly prove your worth to my cause," he said. "You will kill Albus Dumbledore." Draco heard his mother gasp at that. "Do this, and I shall consider you my second in command, and all will be forgiven for your father's failures."

Draco nodded. "Yes my lord," he said.

"Should you fail," the Dark Lord added, pulling out his wand. "I will destroy everything that you hold dear."

"I will not fail you," Draco said solemnly, bowing his head once more. The Dark Lord smiled, touching the tip of his wand to the smooth expanse of Draco's left arm. The spell seared into his flesh like a hot knife. Burning into him the Dark Lord's mark. He could feel the black magic coursing through his veins like a curse. Tainting his blood and the blood of all his progeny for a thousand years. It felt as though fire were ripping through his arm, yet all he could think of were Harry's words. "_You will never belong to him."_

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

The summer felt like an endless void of an impenetrable heat wave that had overtaken Wiltshire. Draco had spent much of the summer holed away in his room, in an effort to steer clear of Greyback and his ilk, or any of the other Death Eaters who had taken a _particular_ liking to Draco as of late. "He smells like a pouf," Draco had heard one of the werewolves hiss behind his back one afternoon. Draco would have laughed, but the last thing he needed was for them to take this as an open invitation to sneak into his room at night and try anything.

He had gotten quite good at advanced concealment charms, and locking charms, especially at night. Not that he slept much these days anyway. Sleeping had become a luxury he could ill afford, besides, without being able to see Harry just before he snuck off to bed, all he could do was worry. Worry that something might have happened to him, worry that he might have been captured. Worry that he could be hurt.

While no one but the Dark Lord _could_ kill Harry Potter, Draco knew first hand there were things far worse than death. Unspeakable things that any Death Eater would gleefully do to Harry given half the chance. Especially if they knew.

Draco could handle whatever the Death Eaters could throw at him, but the thought of what they might do to Harry had been enough to keep him up most nights.

When at last summer ended and the first day of the new school year approached, Draco found he had never been so excited to return to Hogwarts.

There was a certain safety in those walls, even if he _was _meant to kill Dumbledore. He had tried to think about this as little as possible, however. 

The trouble was, having spent literally every waking moment, and most of his sleeping moments as well trying to keep errant thoughts of his love for Harry Potter at bay, Draco had all but convinced himself that he had entirely made up his friendship with Harry altogether. _Surely _he had imagined it, he told himself as he prepared to cross Platform 9 3/4. Surely, the moment he ran into Potter again it would be business as usual, with the two of them as enemies, and Draco pretending as though he wasn't bothered by this fact.

That was after all, how it had always been. So it seemed unlikely that things would have _actually _changed.

Giving his mother a peck on the cheek on the platform, Draco stepped onto the train, and made a beeline for his usual compartment, as far away from anyone else as he could possibly get. Passing Harry's compartment, Draco didn’t dare allow himself to look in and see the unbridled joy on the other boy's face. He wasn't sure he could handle it. It had been enough work trying to keep Harry's smiling visage out of his mind thus far; he was certain to see it in person would be his undoing. 

Sighing, Draco opened the door to an empty compartment all the way in the back, and collapsed onto the seat, alone. He had come to enjoy his alone time whenever he could get it. He was safer alone. 

Pansy and Blaise would be along soon, as would Crabbe and Goyle, and while this thought did comfort him, somewhat, for the time being, Draco was happy to be alone. Closing the curtain against the bright mid-morning sun, Draco closed his eyes, leaning back against his chair. It was comfortable enough, though a little cushioning spell could do wonders. Not that he knew any such spell off the top of his head. He huffed. 

"Has anyone ever told you, you look beautiful when you're asleep?" Harry asked. Draco might have been horrified to find he had been snuck up on, especially by a former enemy, but something in him couldn't _actually_ be mad at Harry. Not anymore. Especially not after the words that had just come out of his mouth. 

Draco smirked, keeping his eyes closed. "Several people as a matter of fact," he said.

He could almost hear Harry's smile in response to that. Harry stepped closer, his face millimeters away from Draco's own. Draco didn't dare open his eyes, lest he break the spell and discover that he really had been dreaming.

"It's true," Harry whispered. "'Course I'd argue you're beautiful regardless."

Draco snorted, "Now I _know _I'm dreaming," he said, more to himself than Harry. He opened his eyes, first squinting the left eye, then blinking both of them completely open. But he wasn't dreaming, for there Harry stood, very real and very handsome. He looked somewhat different than Draco remembered as if he had spent a great deal of his time over the summer outdoors, not that he minded, he was handsome as ever and sprouting the beginnings of what looked to be a beard. It was all Draco could do not to reach out and run his fingers through it.

Harry grinned, closing the space between them and pressed his lips against Draco's, softly at first. Draco gasped at the kiss, it was everything he had ever hoped for and more, and the feel of Harry's lips against his own was almost too much to bear, too much to handle, yet he craved it all the same. Draco curled his fingers into Harry's hair, pulling his face in closer, deepening the kiss. Harry chuckled against his lips. "Mmm, you're a fantastic kisser," Harry said.

"Then why did you stop?" Draco asked, petulantly.

"We have hours before we get to Hogwarts," Harry replied with a smirk, taking the seat beside Draco, next to..._that _arm. Draco nearly flinched as Harry took his hand, as if sure Harry, the being of pure light and love that he was, would instantly feel the dark hatred of magic coursing through his veins. He had mostly tried to ignore it. At least for the first few days after receiving the mark. Then, he had spent the subsequent next few weeks trying to research every dark spell in the Malfoy family library he could find in order to figure out a way to rend it from his flesh. His best research had concluded that even cutting the arm off entirely would be of no avail as the infected flesh would not be removed by any means. Dark magic, or otherwise.

He had considered an incendio, among other spells, but everything bounced off the accursed Dark Mark.

Draco did his best not to turn away from Harry's earnest gaze then, the way he smiled as he held Draco's hand, as if it were normal as if they did it all the time and this was in fact just how they were. He tried not to shy away from Harry's calm familiarity and the desperation with which he craved it. It was humiliating how much he _needed _Harry now. He would never have allowed himself to need anyone _before, _and yet... Draco swallowed, more terrified than ever of losing Harry. He had begged him not to take the Mark. He had made him promise, and Draco had been unable to keep that promise for more than a day before he had given in to the Dark Lord's wishes.

Harry would hate him.

It was only a matter of time.

"How was your summer?" Harry asked with a smile. It was that all to common earnest smile that made Draco’s heart beat faster, and made him want to grin like an idiot. 

Draco sighed, "Potter what are we doing?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound cold, as it had in the olden days. He didn't have the feeling for it any longer, but he hoped Harry wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. It was easier this way. Safer. For both of them. 

Harry merely laughed, "Potter now is it? Alright I'll play along. What are we doing… Malfoy?" he snickered as though he had made some great joke that only the two of them could possibly be in on. It was all Draco could do not to cry. _Can’t just make this easy can you Potter? _The great Gryffindor sap. Draco snatched his hand away, giving Harry a grave look.

"Let's not pretend here. We're not friends. We've never been friends. You don't like me and…" he swallowed forcing himself to say the words. "The feeling is mutual."

"Don't like you… don't be silly Draco I lo…"

Draco held up his hand to stop him, "Please," he said. "You don't. You might _think _you feel something for me because you're young and inexperienced, but I…" Harry glared, snatching the hand that Draco had put up to silence him and pulled it towards himself. Before Draco could react, he yanked up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t _bear _to look at Harry then. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing the pain and disappointment in his eyes.

"Oh Draco," Harry said, placing a gentle hand over the Dark Mark. It was all Draco could do not to break down and sob.

"Y-you should go," Draco said, willing himself not to cry. _You’re a Malfoy, _he chastised himself. _You are stronger than this!_ But Harry didn't leave, instead, he stood up, crossing the small space of the compartment, and locked the door, then kneeled in front of Draco. Holding both of his hands tight in Harry’s own. 

"Look at me," Harry said. It was not a question. It was a command, a command that Draco was powerless to disobey. Draco opened his eyes, to find a powerful intensity in Harry's eyes staring back at him. He swallowed. Trying not to think too hard on any of this. On what it meant, on the fiery passion in Harry’s eyes that made Draco went to melt and do whatever it was Harry asked of him. "This changes nothing," he promised. "You _do not _belong to him," Harry said, his voice cracking on his words as tears welled up in his eyes. "Do you understand me? You don't belong to him. You belong to me!" he growled.

"Harry…" Draco said barely above a whisper.

"Say it!" Harry growled.

"I…"

"Say it!" Harry commanded again.

"I don't belong to him," Draco repeated.

"Keep going," Harry replied.

Draco sucked in a deep shaking breath, "I don't belong to him. I belong to you," he said. Harry nodded, pressing their lips together once more, holding Draco tight in his arms.

"We're going to get through this," Harry promised. "Somehow."

Draco desperately wanted to believe him. _Needed _to believe him. If anyone had the power to protect Draco from all of this, it was Harry Potter. Though a small niggling voice in his head would always whisper. _You don’t deserve him. _"I don't want you to get hurt on my account," he said.

"I won't," Harry promised.

"You know what Voldemort will do if he ever found out…"

"He won't find out," Harry replied determinedly. It was moments like these that Draco could understand exactly how Harry had almost become a Slytherin. He smiled, cupping Harry's face with his hand.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know what I'm fighting for," Harry said with a smile. "And as long as I have a purpose… nothing else matters."

Draco did his best not to cry at that, though it was exceptionally difficult. After a long moment of tearful silence where the two merely held one another, Draco _knew_ he had to tell Harry what was expected of him. The great task that had been bestowed upon him.

"I'm expected to kill Dumbledore," he said quietly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"The Dark Lord, tasked me with a mission so futile that he knew I would most assuredly fail," Draco replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "Kill Dumbledore. Or he would destroy everything I hold dear."

Harry blinked, "Well we have to _tell _Dumbledore surely."

Draco snorted, "And then what? If he lives my family will die, I could die. You could die. I can't risk that."

"You can't actually _kill _Dumbledore," Harry said. Draco sighed.

"What would have you me do?" he snapped. "What would you do to save your family? Your friends?"

"I would do anything… but not _kill _someone!" Harry argued.

Draco merely shrugged, "It's him or me, and the way I see it, he's lived a good life.”

"There's got to be a better way!" Harry argued. "Just… give me time to think. Time to get you out of this! We'll talk to Dumbledore when we get to school. You'll see, everything will be okay," Harry promised.

Draco sighed, he knew he couldn't expect Harry to understand, and yet… he adored him all the same.

* * *

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